A Still and Quiet Conscience
by LadeeBear
Summary: A secondperson pointofview, as Lindsay reflects on her life in NYC. [DL, mainly a reflective glance at Lindsay's feelings] ONESHOT.


**Title: **A Still and Quiet Conscience

**Author: **LadeeBear

**Rating: **K+

**Summary & Background: **So, my AP Literature teacher discussed the various points of view that one can write in, and explained that second-person POV was rarely ever used in stories. So – in my typical fashion – I decided to take that statement as a personal goal. Yes, you are about to read an entire story in second-person POV. It is basically a thoughtful reflection on Lindsay's life, what she is thinking about everything (yes, this is sort of a DL story, so get over it if you don't like 'em together). Bring on the ANGST. Yes, I am in quite the angsty mood, to be honest.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything. Big surprise there, right? Song credit to Maroon 5, for the song "She Will Be Loved".

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"_I feel within me a peace above all earthly dignities, a still and quiet conscience."_

_--William Shakespeare_

You sit, pondering.

The television set before you is glowing, crackling and playing your favorite movie. A sigh escapes your lips and you take another sip of the drink before you. A steady rain falls outside, trickling against the windowpane, reminding you that this isn't home. It doesn't _feel _the same, it doesn't _smell_ the same, and it doesn't _respond _the same. In Montana, you were the woman that everyone knew, the woman who would smile at a passing couple and know their names, ages, and favorite colors. You were about one in a hundred there, and now – dear God, now you are one in a hundred _thousand_. You are just another face, another nameless passerby on the damp pavement below. _This is insane_, you think to yourself, _I have been here for months on end, and yet I am still homesick for Montana. _The thought has crossed your mind many a time about leaving the city and returning to your hometown. But something always stops you. And you feel your heart unconsciously beat faster as you think about your reason. Suddenly, you find yourself thinking about _him_.

You curse aloud, and put your drink down on the table in front of the television. Rubbing your temples, you sigh again, this time feeling your muscles tense at the thought of _him_. He is the cause of all of this, he is the reason you don't leave, and he doesn't even know this. _He _is the reason that you stay awake at ungodly hours in the morning watching your favorite chick-flick.

"God!" you exclaim to your television set. You press the stop button angrily and sink back into your couch, arms crossed defiantly across your chest. You close your eyes, and wish you hadn't. There, you see his smirking face, his brilliantly blue eyes, and suddenly you are swept away in a rush of color.

"No, no, no!"

You open your eyes, still talking to the air. At least the air understands. No one else seems to. You are conflicted, torn, pulled apart, fighting feelings inside of you that _shouldn't _be there. He's your co-worker for God's sakes!

"You shouldn't be feeling this way about him. Lindsay, pull yourself together…"

But you find yourself distracted, filled with warmth that you can't even begin to describe. You feel a tear fall onto your lap and don't understand why you are crying. _He's too right for me; he's too perfect for me. We get along, we laugh, we flirt, we talk…no, he could never want me though. I'm just Montana, to him. Just a lonely state, far away from here, someone unusual, new, and just a friend. Just always a friend._

The rattle of the heater in the corner sends you out of your disheveled thoughts. Your stream of consciousness is interrupted by a thump of a bass. You can't help but smile, even though you are still so torn. The tenant next door turns down the bass and you remove yourself from the couch, over towards the stereo, and hit the 'play' button, unsure of what song will come out of its speakers. After the first verse finishes, the chorus hums.

_I don't mind spending every day,_

_Out on your corner in the pouring rain._

_Look for the girl with the broken smile,_

_Ask her if she wants to stay awhile,_

_And she will be loved,_

_She will be loved,_

_She will be loved._

_She will be loved._

There, in the heart of your living room, you break down and cry hard, body shaking with sobs which are drowned out by the strumming of guitars from the band. You _are _that broken girl. Or, at least, you _were_. Your reasons for leaving Montana have always been sketchy – you simply wanted a new, fresh, start. And yet, if a new start is all that you wanted, shouldn't you give _him _a chance, a fair shot in your life? The battle rages on. He is the reason that you may never leave New York. There is no one else like him in all the world, and you can't help but be drawn ever closer to him. Like a moth to the light, he is radiant and beautiful – _but careful_, you caution yourself, _with fire comes burns, burns that do not heal easily_.

_Ah, so that is your reasoning, dear Lindsay Monroe_, the voice inside of your head whispers ever so gently. _But with fire comes heat, comes warmth and tenderness._

_But with the possibility of being burned, is it not best to steer clear of the light in the first place? If the consequences are so dire…_

You shake your head, trying to clear the arguing voices inside of your mind. You are divided in half, each side vying for acknowledgment, for a say in this argument. So, you listen to the pros and cons. After all, you _are _a scientist. Shouldn't you analyze the good and the bad in every situation before you make a decision?

_How will you ever know if you do not let him have a fair shot? Just because you have been hurt before, Lindsay…_

You stare at the ground, feeling the strings of your heart tugged, like some twisted puppet, dancing around.

…_it hurt. It still hurts sometimes, on lonely nights, on nights like these, where I can't sleep and can't breathe. You don't remember what it's like? Well, I sure as hell do._

_Anything in life, worth living for is worth the pain that it takes to get you there. Take a leap of faith, Lindsay. He won't hurt you. He is not like the others, and you know that. In your heart of hearts, you know that. Accept him. Accept this._

You sigh, a final time, before you rise from the floor, and make your way back over towards the couch. Yet, instead of feeling weighed down, you suddenly feel a bit lighter. He is the reason that you haven't left. And he is the reason that you stay. He is someone who deserves a chance, like anyone else. Just because you have been hurt, doesn't mean that you should slam the door shut in the face of love. Love? Well, it is a possibility, maybe, but that is a worry for another time.

Sometimes, you still feel like the replacement of Aiden, at the lab, when they talk about her laugh, her jokes, or her attitude. And sometimes, you catch his eye as he tells a story about her. He smiles, laughs, and fills you in on every detail that defined his friend. And he reminds you that he appreciates you, just you: Lindsay Monroe. _He _knows you are not Aiden, and he accepts that, because he cares about _you_. His Montana. _His _Montana. His _Montana_, the lonely state in the middle of nowhere, with a population of nobodies. But here, he reminds you that you are a _somebody_.

And you think, maybe there is reason after all. And that piece of you that still feels empty on cold winter nights, and the piece of you that is still haunted by taunting whispers of the past – that part of you is now draped with the peace that only _he _can bring to you.

And you smile now.

You are alive.

**FIN.**

**(Like I said, I am in an angsty mood – which is odd, because I write angst when I am in good moods, and fluff when I am in bad moods. Hope you enjoyed. Hit the button down there that says 'Submit a Review'. I would love to hear your comments!)**


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